Roadtripping
by VoiceNumber08
Summary: After getting off the island, the survivors were offered a second chance to make things right. A year later, Sawyer shows up at Jack's apartment and drags him out on an adventurous but dangerous roadtrip across America.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: After getting off the island, the survivors were offered a second chance to make things right. A year later, Sawyer shows up at Jack's apartment and drags him out on an adventurous but dangerous roadtripp across America.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Lost or any of the characters.

Notes: I'm looking for a beta-reader, but I haven't found one yet so there will probably be some mistakes in this fic. If you want to help, please PM me :)! I have chapter 2 written and the story planned out of sorts, but I havn't translated it yet. Peace, and please review. I take critic well.

**Chapter 1**

"**Surprise visit"**

The silver blonde sand of the beach embraced him in a warm, soft caress. The red, setting sun still burned low in sky and painted the ocean in a comfortable scarlet colour. _This is too good to be true, _thought Jack drowsingly and took another sip of his Jack Daniel. He smiled at nothing in particular and resumed to read a newspaper which contents he didn't really understood. The letters blurred when he looked at them and he couldn't keep focus long enough to understand what it was he was reading,- but it didn't matter, because the tranquillity and the warmth made him feel almost ridiculously satisfied. Like an old cat at a window, purring of pleasure by the sun's touch. Nothing could destroy this moment. But the sunrays gradually disappeared behind the sea, and the waves grew bigger and struck harder towards the beach. Jack closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he only saw the alarm clock radio next to his bed, in his apartment in Los Angeles. The red letters showed the time 3:15 am. Outside his apartment he thought he could, half-sleeping and half-awake, register a noise. Maybe one of his neighbours got home from a drunk night. He pulled his quilt closer and turned around to fall asleep again, but the noise continued and finally he was sufficiently awake to understand that someone was pounding his door. The neighbour had forgot his keys and was locked out of his own apartment, he presumed. The pounding on the door got louder and the person outside was now very persistently ringing the doorbell. Jack moaned and got up. He pulled on his dressing gown and dragged himself out to the hallway.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" he yelled annoyed and bent over and looked through the peek hole on the door. Then he blinked and rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Outside stood a man in his thirties, dressed in a black shirt and slit jeans. His right hand pressed tightly on the left side of his abdomen and the right hand continued to impatiently ring the doorbell. Both hand were covered in blood, and on the stone floor beneath him, small stains of the same dark liquid were visible. Jack quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

"Sawyer?"

Despite a broken jaw and two of his back teeth missing, Sawyer was still smiling his classic Cheshire catsmile. He sat on the bathroom floor leaning against the wall while Jack made a quick evaluation of his injuries.

"Terry towels and cologne…" said Sawyer with his drawn-out accent. "Should I be concerned of where you're putting those hands, Doc?"

Jack ignored him.

"Nothing life-threatening so far", stated Jack. "The knifewound on your left doesn't seem to have affected any vital organs, but there's a big chans that you have muliple internal bleedings." Jack pointed at a big bruise around the right, lower part of his chest. "The liver is located right under there" he said. "There's a risk for a small fracture, and then you got a several broken ribs and a more or less serious concussion, but I can't tell how serious without a CAT-scan."

Jack got up and walked to the bathroom cabinet and took out a jar of painkillers.

"I don't have anything stronger at home", he explained. "But as soonest we get to the hospital I'll make sure you get something else."

Sawyer twitched.

"I ain't going to no hospital." He said with a threatening, and a bit slurred, low tune.

"You have to. Look, you don't need to tell me or any other doctor what happened, but if you don't get care for this injuries – and I mean real care – there is a good chance it won't end well."

"I have managed before. If you just fix the worse I will be out of here. Come on, I can pay!"

"Sorry. You don't have a choice. I am gonna go call an ambulance now, and if I have to I will sit on you till it gets here."

Sawyer rose swaying.

"Hey, sit down! You are not able to go anywhere in your condition."

"I can't go to the hospital, alright?!" snapped Sawyer. "You were my last option!"

Jack studied him critically.

"The police. You have done something again."

"No. This time it is some other people. Worse people."

"You would be safe at the hospital."

Sawyer laughed mockingly.

"Safe? If i as much as show my pretty face there, they will find out! They have access to everything, alright? Everything on the hospital computers, or the cops', they will reach in a few seconds. And right now they are looking for me."

"Hackers?" asked Jack doubtingly.

"No, Jackass. The mafia."

"Are you serious?"

Sawyer kicked a nearby trashcan in frustration and gesticulated towards his injuries as a reply.

"Does this look like a fucking joke to you?"

"Alrigh, alrigh! I'll do as much as I can, then we'll figure something out. Sit back down."

Sawyer eventually calmed down and Jack began to work under silence. The whole situation felt very familiar, though yet remote. On the island, Sawyer had a tendency to get hurt more than anyone else. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was related to the fact that Sawyer ended up in fights more than anyone else as well. So about once every week, Kate had pulled a resistant Sawyer to Jack for some injury. It had become such a ingrained habit that it felt weird to be back after being rescued. On the island he had been needed. Back in the real world he once again worked in shifts, and even though he still saved people's lives and limbs, there was always someone else who could do it instead of him. If he died, the hospital would just hire a new spinal surgeon, but on the island… Jack shrugged and told himself it was a good thing, naturally, but sometimes life just felt empty and uneventful. Jack asked Sawyer to press together the corners of the knifewound while he stitched. Sawyer didn't managed to suppress a moan of pain and closed his eyes tightly with his head pressed backwards.

"People have been wondering where you have been", said Jack.

Sawyer didn't answer and kept his eyes closed.

"You could at least called Kate."

"You spoken to 'er?"

"Yeah, we chat from time to time. Met up with her a few times as well, but she lives in Canada now."

"Hmm. I know. Thought about writing to 'er, but I never did."

"Why?"

"Been busy. So how's life workin' out for 'er?"

"Good, last I heard. She's seeing Sayid" he added a bit nervously. Kate and Sawyer's relationship only lasted for three months, but when they parted ways both of them had taken it pretty hard. From what he had heard from Kate was because both of them had too much to deal with themselves to be in a relationship, and Sawyer never talked about it. Jack had, of course, thought about asking her out after there was some distance since the separation, but it never happened. Kate needed him as a friend, and his wounds were steal healing from the divorce with Sarah. And when they no longer competed over Kate, Sawyer became way more endurable to be around. Their conversations rarely got any deeper than jokes and sometimes debates about baseball, but since Kate and Sawyer broke up there hadn't been a single physical fight between them. Right now though, Sawyer raised his eye brows and smiled a crooked smile.

"Sayid, eh? Have they had sex yet?"

Jack laughed awkwardly.

"I suppose. They've been going out for a couple of months now."

"I always wondered what he was like in bed."

"Mhmm… sit still now.." said Jack and sew the last stitch and cut of the thread. "What did you do to piss of the Mafia?"

"Well" sighed Sawyer. "I worked for them a few times back in the old days. One of the jobs I did went to hell. Lots of money were lost, but it wasn't my fault and they knew it, so they let me go. Thing is, I've been livin' in LA for 'bout six months now, and they asked me to do some more jobs, but I said no. I don't do that shit anymore. Anyway, up till this Friday they have been decent, so it is fucking odd timing, I tell ya. And they are serious as well," he added. "The way they have been acting it seems like I have raped their mommas, damnit!"

Sawyer made a grimace and felt his jaw.

"How do I look?"

"Not to bad. It will leave some scars, but you need to try to be silent now."

"Soon. I have to make a phone call first. Gimme your cell."

While Sawyer was making his call, Jack stood, by his orders, at a window in the livingroom, to in Sawyer's words, "watch out for suspicious, ugly Mexicans driving cars with large trunks". He pulled the curtains closed and peeked through a glade. One of the neighbours in the building across saw him and smiled wide, waving. Jack felt ridiculous, but everytime a car passed on the street below, he felt his stomach tingling and forgot that it was such an early morning. Inside the bathroom, Sawyer was talking loudly in the cellphone with someone whom Jack presumed to be his girlfriend, because he kept repeating words like "darling" and "baby" from time to time. Jack tried to block out the conversation and focused on spying through the window. Another five cars passed before Sawyer hung up and yelled him back.

"Hurry up with the doctorstuff. We need to beat it in an hour."

"We? Where?"

"To pick up some people, then we'll leave the city."

"Woah, hold on. I agree to help you and all, but leave LA? I have to go to work tomorrow."

"Look", said Sawyer and sighed. "I'm sorry, alright? But during the last four days I've come to the conclusion that the guys chasing me won't give up. They're going to get that I've been here, and when they do they're going to come after you. They will think you know where I am, and they won't hesitate to use any means available to get you to speak. And by any means available, I mean stuff like, threaten your momma and that kind of shit. And if that doesn't work, believe me, they will take things to a higher level."

"All this just to get to you?"

"No. For one million dollar. That's the price on my head, Doc."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **After getting off the island, the survivors were offered a second chance to make things right. A year later, Sawyer shows up at Jack's apartment and drags him out on an adventurous but dangerous roadtrip.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I don't own Lost or any of the characters.

**Notes**: I liked this chapter. I still don't have a Beta-reader, and since I don't have English as my mother-tongue there will be grammatical errors, but I've done my best in eliminating them.

There's, BTW, no spoilers in this story. There will probably be a week until next update since I haven't finished writing Chapter 3 yet and it takes a few hours to translate it from Swedish. Plus, I got a few exams coming up this week, but I'll try to write this weekend.

**Chapter 2**

"**The Journey Begins"**

**Santa Monica, 4:30 am.**

Routines. Right now, a train slowed down and stopped at the station, and its tired passengers entered or exited. Some of them sat down on the worn seats next to the window and looked out at the melancholic day which slowly began to unveil itself. Heavy clouds covered every sign of a sunrise, and rain fell harshly on the grey asphalt below. It was one of those days a normal human being woke up with cold feet that wouldn't warm up until this normal human got home from a cruel and tedious day at work and took a really long bath.

Bernard wasn't a normal human.

He liked the sound of falling rain against his umbrella and enjoyed the smell of a newly-washed city and nature. This particular morning he had woken up early and was on his way back to the hotel and to Rose with a paper bag filled with freshly-baked bread. His hands were frozen, but his soul warmed at the thought of being welcomed home by his wife, still wet from her shower, in a dressing-gown and with two cups of black coffee in her hands. It was these simple things in life he had learned to appreciate, and they occupied his mind when he reach the street leading him to his hotel. Maybe that was why he was so surprised when the green Audi rushed passed him and drenched him in dirty rainwater. Maybe it was the chock of the cold water forcing their way through his clothes that made him stop dead for a moment. Or maybe, it was because Bernard, during the quick seconds this scenario took place, caught sight of a couple of familiar faces in the stressed car. A couple whom he didn't expect to meet, and absolutely not together. Whatever the case may be, Bernard shook his head and made sure the fresh bread was still dry. It was to early in the morning to worry about odd coincidences and mysteries.

Jack threw a guilty look at the man on the street behind them, but he was already far away and Sawyer was yelling and urging him to keep his eyes on the road and drive faster. He made a sharp turn into the next street and tried not to listened to the manic southerner in the seat next to him. Even though he still didn't know weather or not he actually believed him, Jack started to remember why someone would pay a million dollars to shut him up, in one way or the other. After a while, Sawyer grew silent and seemed to regret his tantrum. He sat with one hand over his jaw and looked miserable. Jack turned on the radio and eventually Sawyer's restlessness subsided. It wasn't until a half an hour had passed in silence, Jack began to worry.

He had lived close to Sawyer for so many months that he could recognise a pattern in most of his mood swings. He had figured out pretty quick that Sawyer hid his injuries and fear with anger, sarcasm and black humour. It effectively diverted the other survivors from making the effort of caring about him. Except for Kate, of course, and himself, even if it had been forced on to him as his role as a doctor. In the corner of his eye he could se him shift position and stroked a bloody strand of hair away from his face. Jack coughed silently.

"Fawldenroad. Which number are we going to?"

"23. It's right behind that turn over there. A yellow, wooden house."

They reached the driveway and turned off the engine. Jack was told to stay behind while Sawyer shuffled towards the house with a ill-concealed limp and pressed the doorbell. The door opened quickly and a 35-year-old looking woman stepped outside. Jack didn't want to stare, but he couldn't help feeling slightly curious. The woman looked annoyed at first, then worried. She reached out a hand to examine Sawyer's injuries, but with a tense expression and stiff arm. She was still angry. They had a quick conversation which Jack couldn't make out, and then she went back into the house, but left the door ajar. After a while she returned with two suitcases which Sawyer offered to carry out to the car, but she pushed past him and carried them herself. Sawyer then entered the house and Jack stepped out of the car to open the trunk.

"Hi", he said, slightly nervously. "I'm Jack."

"Cassidy", the woman replied, but then turned her back to him and started walking towards the door again when Sawyer returned with what looked like a bunch of wrapped laundry in his arms. Cassidy immediately took it from him, and when she did, a small, cry was heard.

_A child. _Sawyer sat down in the front seat and Cassidy in the back.

"_Women…" _Sawyer sighed quietly.

"Is that yo-"

"Just shut up and drive."

And that's how Jack Shepherd ended up with the Ford-Phillips family on a long roadtrip.

**Montreal, Kanada.**

_He had been waiting for a long time now, and finally thing were starting to happen._ George Stillman, ex-co-worker on The Hanso Foundation, blended with the surrounding darkness. With his night binocular he could make out the figure of a short, Arabian man hurrying across the street. He threw a quick glance on the photograph in his hands. It was no doubt the right man. It had been a hard and frustrating job to find him, and each time he had taken a step forward he was thrown backwards two steps again. Not only had all the files, medical journals and crime records about the survivors from Flight 815 been eliminated, but also every relative to them were as good as gone. It wasn't even possible anymore for a simple man to find any information about the plane crash, and the names of the passengers were even harder to get. But that was something Stillman had expected, and after months of work, he managed to find James Ford. He was probably dead by now… and when you find one, you find them all. Stillman dialled a number on his cellphone.

"Yes?" greeted a hoarse voice on the other side of the line.

"I have found Sayid Jarrah."

"Good. Excellent. It's the same routine as before. Drive five miles south, sleep through the night, and when the morning arrives we will be done with our work and you can go through Jarrah's house for more links. The money will be deposited on Thursday morning."

The connection broke and a monotone tone was heard. Stillman sat unmoving for about 30 seconds before he turned the key and started the engine along with the radio. Julie London's deep voice filled the car.

"_And Now you say you love me, _

_Well, just to prove you do, _

_Come on and cry me a river…Cry me a river._

_I cried a river over you"_

**Califonia**

"_I cried a river over you..."_

"Cassidy…" begged Sawyer.

"No! You told me you quit! Damn you. I can't do this anymore."

"_I **have** quit_! I promise! I told you, it's about an old-"

"-How stupid do you think I am?! Oh my God, I can't believe I actually gave you a second chance."

"Plea-"

"SHUT UP! I don't want to hear it!"

Sawyer slid back in his seat and turned of the radio. The child, who until then had been asleep in Cassidy's arms, had woken up by the fight and started crying. Even though the cry of a child usually was a bad thing, it came as a blessing this day. Jack let out the breath he'd been holding. He hated being caught in other people's arguments.

"So…" he said. "What's her name?"

"Banana" answered Sawyer bitterly.

"Clementine" said Cassidy and sent Sawyer the evil eye.

"Oh" was the only thing Jack could think of to say. He felt like he had just been hired as the Addam's family's new driver.

"She's hungry" said Cassidy after she interpreted Clementine's mumbling. "I packed child food, so if you just pull over for a while I'll find it."

Jack stopped at the right side of the road, and when Cassidy threw the car door shut he turned around to face Sawyer.

"How long did you tell her to pack for?"

"I told her to pack the most necessary to survive for a week."

"I haven't seen anyone following us. If we take you to a hospital now and then check in to a motel for a few days, it should be enough, don't you think? I have many surgeries scheduled this week, I can't be away from work any longer."

"I didn't lie when I told you they have cruel ways to find people."

"I'm not saying you lied, but Sawyer… I understand… that you've been through something unpleasant. I believe that the people who did this to you _are _dangerous, but… well… I also believe the chock might make you imagine some stuff."

"I'm not in chock! I. Am. Telling. The. Truth. FUCK! I know it sounds crazy, alright?! But if I made it up, don't you think I would think of a more sustainable story?"

"Dad?"

"Not now, Clem."

Jack sighed silently and gazed out the window. They had been driving for a few hours now, and the city had morphed into a industrial area where some miserable trees stood in a clump next to a grey basketball field. Cassidy re-entered the car and started to open the jar of squishy child food. Suddenly Jack thought he saw something glare in the right corner of the basketball field, and in the next moment the windshield next to him exploded.

"GET DOWN! DRIVE!" Sawyer shouted and threw himself backwards to push Cassidy and the kid down on the car floor. It felt like everything was happening in slow-motion; the engine started so slowly, the wheels didn't roll fast enough and the sound of bullets firing were only varied by the shriek of the child.

"Oh my God."

"DRIVE FASTER!"

"Oh my fucking God."

The wheels made a screeching noise as they made an abrupt turn into another street. Jack felt how blood was trickled down his cheek and for a moment he thought he had been shot, but it was only the glass splintered that had cut him. The car raced through a one-way alley, and on the side-walks seven-eight year olds were on their way to school. The shooting had stopped, but they knew the danger was far from over. At the end of the road there was a intersection, and right across that intersection a black car was rushing toward them in an alarming speed. Through the left window a man leaned out with a gun pointing toward them. Another shot was fired, but Jack managed to manoeuvre the car in the last second, causing them to almost collide with a nearby building. But the relief wouldn't last, because in the next moment one sound seemed to fill the entire world, a sound that cut through the air and made time stop for a few seconds.

The bullet they had managed to avoid had hit one of the young students. Jack felt paralysed and his eyes were glued to the vivid image of a child lying in a growing puddle of blood, in a growing distance potraited in the rear-view mirror. Another shot was heard and he snapped back to reality. Sawyer had thrown himself on the steering-wheel and manoeuvred the car into a new, deserted street. The black car quickly followed. Jack grabbed the steering-wheel once more and drove mostly on instinct than anything else. His brain felt numb.

"Keep your eyes on the road" said Sawyer. His hands were trembling when he pulled out a gun from the waist of his jeans. "I'm gonna shoot that bastard."

"But the little girl…" Jack manage to say.

Sawyer winded down the car window and leaned out. He fired three shots which soon were answered by a bunch of bullets; one of them flew through the back windshield and hit the handbrake and another one flattened the left back tire.

"The girl. We need to go back." Jack whispered mostly to himself. His hands were shaking, and outside the car, buildings were flying past in an alarming speed. Sawyer fired a few more shots, and then dove back to his seat as the fire was answered. He stared blankly ahead, sweaty and pale.

"We're out of ammo."

Behind him in the back seat, Cassidy sat on the floor with Clementine clutched tightly in her arms.

"Oh my God.." She sobbed. "What are we going to do? What the fuck are we gonna do?"

**To be continued.**


End file.
